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How to make fondant from table sugar

Making fondant is much like making hard candy. You boil the sugar in as little water as possible and keep a close watch on your candy thermometer. But unlike hard candy, you take the syrup off the heat when it reaches 234°F and then you knead it like bread.

If you are new to this, the first thing to do is go back to my previous posts and read the general guidelines for cooking with sugar. First read “How to make hard candy from table sugar.” For information on candy stages, calibrating your thermometer, and cooking at high elevations, see “Notes on cooking sugar syrup.”

Fondant is softer than hard candy. In fact, it is squeezable and pliable like dough. Many beekeepers believe that fondant is easier for the bees to eat than hard candy. Although I personally do not share that opinion, I do believe it is important for the beekeeper to what he or she feels is best. That said, fondant is more work than hard candy, which is more work than granulated sugar out of the bag. I had a much different opinion of the amount of work when I had fourteen hives than when I had one—and this may happen to you too.

After you’ve boiled your syrup to 234°, you pull the pot off the stove and cool it down to about 200°F. At this point you can try to knead it with gloved hands (maybe—it is still egregiously hot). Better yet, pour it into a stand mixer and beat the syrup slowly with a paddle attachment. Continue beating the mixture until it turns white and has a smooth and silky texture. Divide it into molds and you are done. Once it cools, wrap it and store it in a cool place.

Fondant

Print recipe
Serves 4-5 hives
Prep time 10 minutes
Cook time 1 hour
Total time 1 hour, 10 minutes
Dietary Gluten Free, Vegan
Meal type Main Dish
Misc Freezable, Pre-preparable, Serve at Hive Temperature
Occasion Winter
Fondant can be kept on hand and slipped quickly into a hive that is low on stores.

Ingredients

  • 10 lb granulated sugar
  • 1 quart water
  • 1 tablespoon vinegar or lemon juice
  • 5-8 drops essential oil (optional)

Note

If you are extremely picky, you can wipe down the inside of the pot with a wet pastry brush while the mixture comes to a boil. This will keep any errant sugar crystals from forming more crystals as the mixture cools. I don't do this because the bees don't care.

Before you begin to knead the fondant you can add a few drops of essential oil, if desired. I like to add anise oil because the bees seem to find the food faster. You can also use tea tree, spearmint, lemongrass, peppermint, or wintergreen.

Directions

Step 1
Prepare molds in advance. You can use paper plates, pie pans, or take-out boxes. Spray lightly with oil and place on a flat, heat-proof surface.
Step 2
Measure the water and the vinegar (or lemon juice) into a large pot and bring to a slow simmer.
Step 3
Pour in the sugar, stirring until it dissolves completely. Keep stirring until you feel no "grits" in the water. If the sugar won't dissolve add more water, little by little, until all the crystals disappear.
Step 4
Once the sugar is completely dissolved, you can gently turn up the heat to medium high and stop stirring. Insert your candy thermometer. (Because the crystals are gone, there is nothing to settle on the bottom and burn; the sugar is in solution.)
Step 5
Boil the mixture until the thermometer reads 234 degrees F, then remove the pot from the heat. If you wish, you can test the candy at this point. Place a drop of syrup into a glass of cool water. Reach in and get the drop. The drop of candy should flatten and run down between your fingers.
Step 6
Set the pot aside to cool to about 200 degrees F. You can set the pot in a sink of ice water to speed up the process, but it is not necessary.
Step 7
When the fondant reaches about 200 degrees F you may add a few drops of essential oils, if desired.
Step 8
Pour the fondant into a stand mixer with a paddle attachment and slowly beat until the mixture turns light-colored and smooth. Alternatively, you may knead the fondant with your hands, but be careful of the heat.
Step 9
Divide the mixture into 8 or 10 paper plates and then allow it to cool completely.
Step 10
Once cool, wrap the fondant in plastic wrap or wax paper. You can store the fondant for several weeks in a cool place, or for long periods in the freezer.
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Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

My bees have lost their sweet little minds

This morning, after a week of advising everyone else to check on their bees, I decided I’d better do the same. I figured there would be no excuse if everything went wrong. I couldn’t say no one told me.

So I made some sugar trays just in case and starting doing the rounds. The top-bar hive was first and it seemed normal except lots of bees flew out when I opened it up. This surprised me, so I looked at the thermometer. Hmm. Forty degrees F and raining.

Now forty isn’t freezing but it’s not exactly balmy, either. I gave them some sugar and proceeded up the hill. When I got about ten feet from the first Langstroth I heard a sound that reminded me of a generator in the distance. I thought about it for a moment and decided it was a generator in the distance because this is January, and in January I have to lean close to the hives and tap to hear anything at all.

But the closer I went, the confused-er I became. I have never heard bees make that kind of racket at this time of year. The entire hive seemed to vibrate and a vast number of dead bees littered the landing board that I had cleared only two days ago. I removed the lid and figured I would lift the edge of the quilt and slide in the sugar tray, just like always.

The instant I lifted the quilt a quarter-inch, they started foaming out like soap bubbles from an overflowing washing machine. I had opened the dike and they spilled forth. They oozed over the top and down the sides. Three stories down bees squeezed out of the hive opening and melted over the landing board. The dog left.

Just under the quilts I keep a three-inch feeder rim just in case I need room for feed or pollen patties or grease patties . . . whatever. This feeder space was absolutely full of bees end to end, side to side, and top to bottom.

I replaced the quilt without putting in the sugar tray because I needed a moment to think. This maneuver immediately squeezed about fifty bees, so I opened it up again only to have all the spilling, oozing, and flowing start all over again. Ultimately, I tried to slide the sugar tray under them, but there were so many bees in there it sort of floated like a rowboat on a lake while the bees moved around under it.

All this was just the beginning: every subsequent hive was exactly the same and, honestly, I don’t understand. In previous years, my triple deeps have done the best which is why they are all triples this year. They had tons of honey going into winter and I didn’t think I would need to feed. But like many other parts of the country, we’ve had a warmish winter and the bees are burning through their stores in record time.

Still, how will I keep these huge colonies fed until spring? It is so early in the year that I will need a dump truck full of sugar to keep them going. What I really need is a strategy . . .

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

Syrup does not belong in a cold hive

I am getting so many questions about feeding syrup to winter bees that I decided to re-run this post from last year. Two points are especially important. First, it is the temperature of the syrup—not the temperature of the outside air—that governs whether the bees will drink the syrup. If you are having nights in the 30s or 40s, even if the daytime air spikes into the 60s, the syrup will not be warm enough. Sugar syrup has a high heat capacity, in other words it takes a lot of heat to warm it up.

Second, a container of syrup in your hive in cold weather will not harm the bees, but neither will it help them. The bees will just ignore it. But it is a waste of syrup, it will probably get moldy, and it can add moisture to a hive you are trying to keep dry. So why go there? Just give your winter bees fondant, hard candy, or granulated sugar instead.

So here’s the original post. I’ve added some related posts at the end. I particularly recommend “Physics for beekeepers: why bees can eat solid sugar in winter.”

Q: What should I feed my bees, sugar syrup, fondant, or hard candy?

A: Both liquid feed and solid feed have their place. Ideally, a solution of 2:1 syrup can be fed in the fall until the syrup itself reaches about 50°F (10°C). In colder temperatures solid feed (either fondant or hard candy) should be fed.

Q: I’ve heard that evaporating the syrup is particularly difficult for the bees in cold weather and this is why it shouldn’t be fed in winter. What do you think?

A: There are really two questions here.

Q1: Is it difficult for bees to evaporate water from syrup in winter?

A1: Absolutely. Cold air can hold less moisture than warm air, so in a cold hive no amount of fanning will evaporate the water from cold syrup. Think of dew. Dew forms on objects because the cold air of evening cannot hold all the moisture that warmer daytime air can hold. As the temperature drops, the water vapor literally falls out of the air and condenses on things. If winter air cannot hold the moisture from the syrup, it will not evaporate no matter how hard the bees work.

Q2: Is this why you shouldn’t feed syrup in winter?

A2: Most winter feed is not given to bees in the hopes they will store it, it is given to bees to keep them from starving should they run out of honey. A feeder full of cold syrup in your hive will not hurt your bees, but it won’t help them either. It just sits there because it is too cold for the bees to drink. And since they won’t drink it, it is not an emergency food source.

Q: Don’t bees need some water in order to eat hard candy and fondant?

A: Yes, a source of moisture is needed, but there is plenty of moisture in the hive for this. The moisture from bee respiration condenses on cool surfaces just like the dew. Since the fondant or candy is above the bees, the moisture from their respiration lands on it and condenses. Unless you live in the desert, damp air coming in from outside through the entrance may condense on the solid sugar as well. These sources provide plenty of water for the bees to consume solid sugar.

Q: Won’t bees leave the hive in dangerously cold temperatures in order to find water to dilute the fondant?

A: No. Bees don’t commit suicide. At any rate, the colder the air, the less water it will hold—and the more bee respiration will condense on the sugar.

Q: I’m confused. I thought 2:1 syrup was fed to bees in order to build up reserves for winter.

A: It is. But, as I mentioned above, the purpose of fall feed and the purpose of winter feed are different. A hearty feeding of 2:1 syrup in the fall while temperatures are still warm enough to evaporate it will be stored by the bees and used to increase their winter food supply. On the other hand, the purpose of winter feed is to keep bees that are low on stores from starving—they are not going to store their winter feed, they’re going to eat it.

Q: Should all bees be fed sugar?

A: No. Bees should eat honey. Sugar is fed when a colony hasn’t collected sufficient stores to make it until spring, when the beekeeper has over-harvested, or when the beekeeper needs to administer certain medicines, such as Fumagilin for Nosema diseases.

Q: So you’re not advocating solid sugar over liquid sugar?

A: I’m not advocating anything. I’m just trying to explain why the bees treat different feeds differently at different temperatures. Very specific physical properties govern how the world works. The more you know of these, the easier it is to make good management decisions.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite.com

Related posts:

Winter feeding of honey bees

Ten questions about Mountain Camp feeding

Sugar syrup ratios: which one to use

Why feed sugar syrup at all?

 

Opening the hive in winter

I have an electronic pedometer that I keep in my pocket. Last weekend the inevitable happened: I ran it through the washing machine. I didn’t realize what I had done until it was in the final rinse cycle, and when I pulled it out it was blank and full of water. Duh.

I decided there was nothing to lose, so I took it apart. Wherever I found a screw, I took it out. An amazing number of treasures emerged—gaskets, O-rings, washers, circuit boards, separators, LCD screens. I lined up everything next to my computer where the CPU fan could dry it all out. After the first reassembly, I had one piece left, but after the second try, bingo. It worked like a champ.

So what does this have to do with beekeeping? Simply this: sometimes we are better off doing something risky than doing nothing at all.

After my last two posts, several people wrote to say they think their bees are low on food but it is too cold to open the hive. They asked me what to do.

Here’s the thing. From the outside you can’t be certain whether they are out of food or not. But if they are, you will lose the colony for sure if you don’t feed it. If they are not low on food—and you work quickly—you will probably not do too much harm. So, if you are reasonably confident they may be low, my advice is to go in and see.

The same day as the pedometer incident, I was checking my hives with a gentle knock to the brood boxes. If I listen carefully, I can tell where the colony is. In one of the hives, the colony was at the top. So I went back to the house and got a sugar cake and then I opened the hive. I was right. Just under the quilt about a zillion bees were congregated on the top bars. I slipped the sugar cake in and closed up the hive. Outside temperature: 28° F.

I need to do more in there, but at 28° I did something to hold them over until the temperature creeps up. On a warmer day, I may rearrange the frames to bring honey closer to the bees, or I may add some frames of honey I’ve kept in reserve, or I may give them more sugar cakes. The point is, if you have a risky situation you should try to do something even if the conditions are not perfect.

Having heard thousands of bee stories over the years, I think that more errors are made from not doing anything than from actually doing something. Obviously, you don’t want to be careless. You don’t want to do a complete hive inspection in freezing weather. On the other hand, if you can take a stopgap measure to help your bees along, why not?

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

The dead of winter

Many new beekeepers are concerned about the dead bees that accumulate on or near the hive in winter. Every week I receive several questions about this, so I want to elaborate.

Even in the healthiest of colonies, bees die every single day. According to Bees of the World (O’toole and Raw) a normal-sized colony loses about a thousand bees per day in the summer. These losses are replaced by a busy queen that may lay upwards of a thousand eggs per day. Most of the summer losses are foragers that die on the job and we never even notice them. Since they are out of sight and out of mind, most beekeepers aren’t too concerned about these daily losses.

But bees continue to die every day even in winter. The losses are not as high because the bees are not foraging and because winter bees have special adaptations that allow them to live longer than summer bees. Still, many die every day, and they die at home where we can see them.

If you consider that your healthy colony may have 50,000 or maybe even 60,000 members going into the fall but may have only 20,000 come spring (WSU Extension) somewhere along the line you lost 30,000 to 40,000 bees. That’s a bunch.

For the sake of argument, I’ll take the smaller number of 30,000 and divide it by 182, which is the number of days in October, November, December, January, February, and March. That gives me 164 bee deaths per day. The larger number of 40,000 gives me 220 bee deaths per day.

Of course these numbers are approximations. But most people who write to me are concerned about “five or six dead bees” on the landing board or “two dozen dead bees on the snow.” As you can see, those numbers are just natural attrition and are nothing to worry about.

For years now my own hives have been within a short walk of my house. Nearly every day I walk up there (for my benefit more than theirs) and I flick the dead bees off the landing boards. What I’ve noticed is that a new pile of bees every day is a signal that all is well inside. Only a healthy colony has the manpower—er, beepower—to dispatch undertaker bees to clean up the bodies. On warmer days they fly them off and drop them on the ground, but on colder days they just shove them out the entrance. In either case, all is well.

Now I begin to get concerned when I see no bodies, because then I wonder if the colony is as strong as it should be. In fact, in several instances this was my first clue of a failing colony. It’s not a sure thing, but it is a piece of information you can use when making management decisions or when you are trying to decide if you should peek inside.

But don’t forget to look before you flick. A couple of years ago, I found the queen among the five or six dead bees at the entrance. I was able to combine that queenless hive with a nuc in the middle of winter, and I ended up with a vibrant, healthy hive by spring.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

This bottom board came from a colony that overwintered successfully. Even though I removed a dozen or so bodies every day, this thick mat of bees remained on the inside of the hive. The light-colored debris is from combs that were opened (bottom and right) and sugar cakes (top left).
This bottom board came from a colony that overwintered successfully. Even though I removed a dozen or so bodies every day, this thick mat of bees remained on the inside of the hive. The light-colored debris is from combs that were opened (bottom and right) and sugar cakes (top left).